


The Holes They Leave Behind

by ilostmyshoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Gen, Hallucinations, Mental Institutions, Suicide Attempt, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilostmyshoe/pseuds/ilostmyshoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benny Lafitte had worked for years as an orderly in a mental institution, but nothing had prepared him for the hospital’s newest patients: Dean Winchester and Jimmy Novak. Every conversation with the men and their families pulled him farther into a world of secrets and delusions, uncertainty and regret. Could angels and demons really exist, or were they only in his patients’ heads?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my amazing artist [nevertoldmewhat](http://nevertoldmewhat.livejournal.com/1270.html) for both the initial prompt and her amazing artwork. I am so grateful to have had the chance to work with her on this story and am blown away by how many heartwrenching additional pictures she made. You can click on the images in the story to see them larger. I really recommend taking the time to do so either before or after reading, because the little details that she includes are fantastic.
> 
> Thanks to [safiyabat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Safiyabat) for being a thoughtful and insightful beta; her suggestions definitely made the story more focused and more powerful (and kept me from accidentally calling Benny "Denny" at one point). Any remaining mistakes are my own.

[ ](http://i404.photobucket.com/albums/pp128/SOOOOEvil/Big%20Bang%20Stuff/Banner.jpg)

[](http://i404.photobucket.com/albums/pp128/SOOOOEvil/Big%20Bang%20Stuff/BennyProlougeCol.jpg)


	2. Denial

[](http://i404.photobucket.com/albums/pp128/SOOOOEvil/Big%20Bang%20Stuff/Youcanthealmecolor.jpg)

“Young Man Tried to Kill Himself After Telling the Police He Killed Over 300 People”

“Not Guilty: Dean Smith Not Guilty! Supposed Victims Still Alive!”

Dean looked at the articles hanging on his wall, and then turned to smirk at the man leaning against the doorframe.

“I wish they hadn’t gone with ‘Dean Smith’ for my alias. It sounds like some pansy-ass office worker. I’m telling you, man, you wouldn’t believe the awesome names I’ve come up with in the past. Smith? Really? Makes it sound like I’ve got no imagination.”

Benny regarded him coolly. “Somehow I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

Dean shrugged and leaned back against the wall. “Yeah. Guess not. Whatever. Still sucks though.”

“Do they bother you?”

“What? The articles? Nah. I mean, it’s not my best angle, but it’s impossible to take a _bad_ picture of this face.” He tilted his head, pursed his lips, and sucked in his cheeks, but Benny ignored the posing.

“I meant the descriptions of the people that you thought you’d killed.”

“Oh. Well, technically I only killed some of them. The rest just got caught in the crossfire. But every death after I catch a case is one more on my list, ‘cause if I’d done my job right they’d still be alive. Nobody gives a shit about technicalities and extenuating circumstances. The families just know their loved one is gone.”

“But none of those people are actually dead.”

“So they keep telling me . . . Well then, good news: the only people I’ve hurt are myself and my family. Much shorter list. Drinks all around, right?” He looked up at Benny and smirked. “Oh, and all of you here at the hospital that’re stuck dealing with me. Sorry about that, man.”

“Dean, no one blames you for being here. This isn’t a punishment. You’re sick. We want to help you get better, but you need to work with us. Can you do that?”

“Look, Benny–Can I call you Benny? You seem like a nice guy, and I appreciate you trying to help, but trust me when I say you’re in way over your head here. You don’t have a fucking clue what you’re dealing with.”

*   *   *   *   *

 “Why the hell won’t you let me in to see my brother!?!” Sam paused in his pacing to glare down at Benny. “This was never a problem at the other hospital!”

“With all due respect, son, you moved your brother here because he wasn’t making progress at the other facility. You’ve done your research. Dr. Masters is the best in her field; you need to trust her expertise. I know it’s frustrating, but she thinks it inadvisable for you to visit your brother at this time.”

“And you? What do you think?” Sam pressed.

“I’m just an orderly. It’s really not my place to–“

“Bullshit,” Sam interrupted. “You spend more time with my brother than anyone else, and you’re the first person in years that I’ve heard talk about him like an actual human being instead of a cluster of symptoms. I want to hear your opinion.”

“Fine,” Benny sighed. “Honestly, I agree with the doctor on this. I think it’s best for Dean if the two of you spend some time apart.”

“Why?” Sam crossed his arms over his chest.

“You play a central role in his psychosis. He needs to learn to cope with your absence and accept a greater distance between the two of you. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that his most recent break with reality started days before your wedding. He places a high value on your relationship, and on some level he seems to have viewed your commitment to your wife as a desertion and betrayal on your part.”

“Wait.” Sam looked at Benny in horror. “You’re saying it was about Jess? All of his ravings about Ruby and Lilith, demon blood and the apocalypse . . . The whole time he meant . . . ? Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.” Sam sank into a chair and ran his hands through his hair.

Benny sat next to him. “I know this is hard, Sam, but you have to have seen the connections before.”

“I never . . . I mean . . . yeah. I know enough about Dean’s delusions to know that I’m in a lot of them. But . . . Dean thought Jess was already dead, burned on the damn ceiling while I was in undergrad. I know it’s fucked up, but I figured that meant she was safe. Now you’re saying he might have seen her as Ruby or Lilith?”

“There’s no way to be certain, of course, but given the physical resemblance between your wife and his description of Lilith’s adult vessel–the blonde hair, the white dress–I’d say it’s a distinct possibility.”

“Fuck.” The blood drained from Sam’s face. “He had a knife. He had a fucking knife, and she was just down the hall, and he so easily could have . . . Jesus Christ. I can’t. I . . . I’ve spent four fucking years thinking that I overreacted, hating myself for calling the cops on my own brother. Now I can’t believe I waited as long as I did. I mean . . . fuck. I called Dad and waited for _hours_ hoping he would respond. What if I’d waited just a little bit longer? What if I’d fallen asleep and hadn’t seen Dean take out the knife? He could’ve . . . Jess . . . Oh my God.”

“Hey. It’s okay, Sam. You did the right thing calling 911, and you’re doing the right thing now. You’re getting your brother the treatment he needs. I know it’s hard not seeing him, but trust me. Dean is making real progress. He’s become more calm and lucid on this new combination of meds. He’s starting to separate his delusions from reality. It’s only one step in a long process, of course, but he will get well again. You just need to give us time.”

[](http://i404.photobucket.com/albums/pp128/SOOOOEvil/Big%20Bang%20Stuff/healwayscomeswhenIcallcol.jpg)

“The 300 not-actually-dead people shouldn’t worry you the most.”

“No?” Benny’s voice was noncommittal.

“No.” Dean shrugged. “The feds checked them out, and they’re all fine, right? I remember their blood on my hands, their dead eyes, and the smell of their corpses, but my memories don’t mean shit, so why worry? Right?”

“But there’s something else I should worry about?”

“Hell. My relapse. Whatever you want to call it. All of the people I remember torturing and killing in those four months after I left the hospital. They didn’t have names. Most of them didn’t even have faces. How the fuck can the feds possibly prove they aren’t dead? How many mutilated bodies might be hidden in basements, sunk to the bottom of rivers, or buried in shallow graves?”

“Even if you did hurt someone, Dean, you weren’t in your right mind. At some point you need to let go of whatever did or didn’t happen and focus on forgiving yourself and moving forward.”

“Yeah, right.” Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s kinda what Cas said. He said I didn’t think I deserved to be saved. I don’t, but apparently human opinions don’t mean shit when you’re an angel, so my guilt complex is irrelevant.”

“And this ‘Cas,’ is Castiel, the angel you say freed you from hell?”

“Yup. He gripped me tight and raised my ass out of the pit. God knows why.” Dean scoffed. “I was a total asshole about it, too. But he saw right through my shit like no one has since Dad, and he refused to give up on me or let me give up on myself. He isn’t always around, but he always comes when I need him.”

“And is he here right now?”

Dean’s distracted contemplation shifted to sudden rage. “Fuck you Benny! You know he’s not! He’d be here if he could, but something about this _fucking_ place is keeping him away. They’ve locked him out. He can’t find his way here, and I don’t know how to reach him.” The anger faded as quickly as it had appeared, and Dean sank to the floor looking lost and drained. “I called and I called and I called. He _always_ comes when I call, but now . . . I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to get him back.”

Benny slid down the wall to sit across from Dean. “I know, brother. I know it’s hard. I know you miss him, but you’re going to get through this. You’re going to get better, and it’ll all be worth it. I promise.”


	3. Anger

[](http://i404.photobucket.com/albums/pp128/SOOOOEvil/Big%20Bang%20Stuff/JohnWinchesterCOL.jpg)

“He thinks I’m dead, you know.”

Benny looked over in surprise at the man sitting in the corner of the visitors’ room with his head in his hands. The eldest Winchester had always been taciturn with the hospital staff. Benny walked over and settled into a chair a couple of seats away, resting his forearms on his knees and letting his gaze settle on the opposite wall. The silence stretched on interminably, but finally John spoke again.

“My own son thinks I’m dead. I go to talk to him, and he just looks right through me. I guess at some point he decided he’d rather have a ghost for a father than face how badly I failed him.”

“You didn’t–“

“Shut your mouth. I’ve got some things I need to talk through, and you can listen or you can get the fuck out, but don’t you _ever_ try to act like your fancy degree and years of experience in this nuthouse mean you know my son better than I do.”

Benny pressed his lips together and nodded slightly, then turned his face back to the wall, waiting for John to continue.

“It’s easy, of course, to see the signs in hindsight. No strong relationships with anyone besides myself and Sam. His obsession with urban legends and the supernatural. The long, random car trips that he took more and more frequently. Heck, according to some of what I’ve read even his fidgeting and staring off into space could count as symptoms. But all of that’s stuff everyone does, right? So why would it be cause for concern?

“The hell of it is that if Mary hadn’t died everything would have turned out differently. The first time Dean got committed they told me this sort of thing almost always runs in families. So I did some digging. I’d never heard of such a thing in my family, and what records I could find confirmed my expectations. Winchester genes may include a predisposition towards being an alcoholic asshole, but there’s no family history of anything resembling schizophrenia.

“So I started looking into the Campbell family tree, and I didn’t have to look very far to find all kinds of stuff. Violent, anti-social behavior. Obsessions with demons and monsters. Almost every generation had at least one or two family members that ended up in jails or mental institutions, and more that experienced sudden, bloody deaths.

“Mary had never told me any of this. Finally I understood why she never wanted anything to do with her extended family. Her panicked reactions to strange noises and unexpected knocks at the door started to make more sense. If only she hadn’t died in that fucking fire I know– _I know_ –she would have noticed what was happening to Dean. We could have caught it early, and maybe, with the right treatment, things would never have gotten this bad.

“But no. My beautiful Mary burned, and Dean was left with an absent brother and a fuck-up of a dad. I was so far in denial that even after the overwhelming shit storm and media circus of his first breakdown I tried to pretend everything could just go back to normal. I should have known better, but he just . . .

“He was taking his meds and going to counseling, and he seemed so _normal_ , you know? And I wanted so badly to believe that it had been a fluke, a random, once-in-a-lifetime set of events that pushed him to that breaking point. I wanted to believe that I had my boy back. So I treated him like an adult, and I gave him space–maybe even a bit more space than he needed to be honest–because the less I saw of him the easier it was to pretend that it was all just a bad dream.

“And then Sammy called, and I didn’t answer because I didn’t want to hear my youngest blather on about law school and his wedding and the perfect life that he was building as far away from his family as possible. I never dreamed that it was an emergency, that he was calling about Dean, that he was trying to ask me for help. I didn’t learn how badly I’d fucked up until the hospital called me the next day to say Dean had been forcibly committed, again. I’ll never forgive myself for my mistakes, so don’t try to tell me to do anything different. Save your pity and reassurance for those who need it. Or, better yet, those who deserve it.”

*   *   *   *  *

“I know I’m crazy.” Dean looked up at Benny with a forced smile. “I mean, for most of my adult life I’ve got these two sets of conflicting, overlapping memories, like that thing where you play one song in one ear and a different song in the other. Sometimes they compliment each other and sometimes they fight to drown each other out, but no matter what, in the end you’re left with a bitch of a headache.”

Benny nodded in sympathy. “Is your head bothering you right now?”

“Nah. No more than the usual. Just what passes for normal in my crazy, broken brain. But that’s weird, right? The knowing that I’m crazy.” He gnawed on his bottom lip. “I mean, I don’t get all hot and bothered about research like Sammy, but I can handle the basics. After my release I did some digging, and one of the main characteristics of schizophrenia is that people who have it aren’t aware of their disease. It’s called achondroplasia or something.”

“Anosognosia.”

“Yeah. That. I can’t always tell which memories are real and which are fake, but even in my worst moments I knew there was something funky going on in my head. And it’s not just the meds, because this was true even when I’d been off them for months, hitting rock bottom in the depths of hell. So what does _that_ mean? I can’t even do crazy right?”

“I don’t think it means anything. It’s just your brain. Even within a diagnosis, everyone’s mind works differently. Some people like math. Some people like knitting. Some people like worrying excessively over technical and irrelevant questions.” His pointed look was softened by the reluctant quirk of his lip. “I’m not one to tell people what’s right or wrong as long as they aren’t hurting anyone. But come on, now. There’s gotta be something better for you to think about.”

Dean shrugged his shoulders. “I’m open to suggestions. Shockingly, I’ve discovered that cars and porn can only get a man so far. My dad’s dead and my brother won’t visit, so family’s a downer. D’you think demons, monsters, or my missing angel would be a better focus?” His voice stayed nonchalant, but his eyes were hard. His lip curled wryly at his final words.

“And on that note I’m shuttin’ up and backin’ away.” Hands raised in front of him, Benny matched motion to words. “I’m leaving you to your philosophizing, but I’ll be back with dinner in a couple of hours.”

“Now _there’s_ something to look forward to.” Dean twisted his face into an exaggerated grimace of disgust.

Benny chuckled and shook his head. Then he slipped out of the room and shut the door behind him. He let his shoulders droop as he leaned back against the door and sighed.

[](http://i404.photobucket.com/albums/pp128/SOOOOEvil/Big%20Bang%20Stuff/Howsmybrothercol.jpg)

“I tried seeing a therapist myself,” Sam confessed. “I mean, I was hesitant at first. My family’s not really big on the whole caring-and-sharing thing, let alone paying a professional to listen to you bitch about your problems. But when I heard this disease might be genetic I figured I owed it to Jess and our future family to at least get myself checked out.”

“Being declared symptom free was reassuring,” he continued. “But when it came time for the talk therapy I clammed up. I knew I was making it impossible for the therapist to do his job, so eventually I quit and stopped wasting everybody’s time. I couldn’t explain my family, my life, my _brother_ to some stranger. It just wasn’t going to happen. So if you’re annoyed that I’m back here talking your ear off, I’m sorry, I am. I really did try.”

Benny put a hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate the concern, Sam, but don’t worry yourself. You aren’t the first or the last to unburden yourself in this room. I’m happy to listen as long as you remember that I am in no way, shape, or form certified to counsel anybody. All I can offer is folksy advice and a friendly ear.”

“Thanks. That means . . .Well . . . You know.” Sam looked away, then continued. “So anyway, just before I quit going the therapist asked this one question that’s stuck with me. I’d confessed that I felt angry all the time. I expected him to ask me why, but he didn’t. Instead, he asked _who_ I was angry with. I gave him the obvious answer: my dad. How could I not be angry with him? I’m not talking about the petty stuff from when I was a kid. I mean angry because Dad didn’t fucking _tell_ me about Dean’s illness.

“Sure, he cut ties with me when I went to school, and that hurt. But there is a world of difference between not calling for your son’s birthday and not calling when his big brother confesses to multiple homicides, tries to kill himself, and ends up in a mental institution. It was all over the fucking papers for Christ’s sake, but Dad couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone. He never said a word, and I was just . . . just living my life. Going to law school, living with Jess, thinking everything was great, and the whole time my brother was . . .

“So yeah, I’m mad at my dad, but recently I’ve realized that I’m mad at myself too. I’m pissed off at my stupid, naive obliviousness, because on some level it was my fucking choice to be selfish. My decision not to reach out and try harder. Part of me should have known. Fuck it, part of me _did_ know.

“I knew from the weekend before my law school interview. Dean showed up out of nowhere. He broke into our apartment in the middle of the night and tried to talk me into some random road trip by claiming that Dad was ‘missing’ on a ‘hunting trip’. Our dad’s never been hunting in his life. He goes on plenty of trips–travels almost constantly for business–but I don’t think he’s shot a gun since Vietnam. I put up some token resistance, but agreed to go along.

“Honestly I’d missed Dean, and I thought it would be a nice throw back to when were were younger. See, like I said, Dad was gone all the time for work, so Dean was stuck taking care of me a lot. When we got bored he’d make up stories about how Dad was only pretending to be on some lame construction gig and was actually on a monster hunt. Dean was a great story-teller, too–which kind of back fired on him when some of his tales gave me nightmares for weeks.

“As soon as Dean got his license he wanted to be on the road all the time, just like Dad. But unlike Dad, Dean took me with him whenever he could. He’d tie the trip in with whatever ghost story or urban legend had caught his fancy that week, and I’d trail along enthusiastically, an utterly captivated audience. I thought it was the coolest thing ever, at least until the last couple years of high school. Then I started planning for college, and the top schools don’t really count ‘road trips with my brother’ as a valid extra-curricular activity. I started asking to stay home. I felt bad, ‘cause I knew Dean’s feelings were hurt, but I had to live my own life, right?

“Anyway, he came to see me at Stanford, and one more trip after our years apart seemed like little enough to ask. Part of me hoped it might be a peace offering, a chance to reconnect so that we wouldn’t go years without talking again. And once I got into it I had fun. I mocked his cassette tapes, and bitched when he called me ‘Sammy.’ We talked about the legend of the “woman in white,” and explored this creepy, abandoned house that Dean found. I even got to drive the Impala for like five seconds, which _never_ happens. He took me home, and that was that. I didn’t hear from him again for years. I called to tell him I got into law school, but he didn’t respond, and I didn’t push it.

“I should have realized that weekend that something was going on with him, that the mania in his eyes went beyond his normal, contagious enthusiasm. For a teenager those trips were an adventure, but that isn’t how a normal, twenty-six-year-old man bonds with his little brother. Ignoring my calls wasn’t like him either. It was obvious something was wrong. I should have fucking _known_ , should have reached out more, gone to find him and make sure he was okay. But I was hurt by his rejection, and it was so much easier to throw myself into life at Stanford, life with Jess. I let it go, let him go, and I hate myself for it.

“It’s so fucking unfair that I feel guilty _every_ day for having a well-paying job and an amazing wife. It’s bullshit that nothing I do for my brother now will _ever_ make up for what I didn’t do then. And it’s terrifying to know that he did it for me, that in his twisted version of reality going to the cops was a last-ditch demon deal, selling his soul to save my life. Because he’d give everything for me, and there’s nothing I can do to save him. Nothing.”

*   *   *   *  *

 “I know why Sammy doesn’t want to come see me.” Dean’s voice was detached, and his eyes were unfocused. He sat on his bed with his forearms on his knees and his back against the wall.

“Dean, I know today was rough, but it was just a reaction to the new drugs. They’re messing with your emotions. I know right now you feel like hell, but don’t project that onto your relationship with your brother. Sam would be here if he could.”

“That’s bullshit, Benny, and you know it. This is Sam we’re talking about. He’s beaten demons, angels, fucking Lucifer himself, but now he’s stumped by hospital security? Nice try, but I’m not buying it. Sam’s staying away by choice, because some part of him knows.”

“Knows what?”

“Knows how this all started. Knows how fucked up I am. Knows it’s _my_ fault that Jessica is dead.”

“She’s not . . .”

“No. Right. Of course she isn’t. But she _is_ , you know? It’s all so fucking mixed up.” He shook his head. “Ever since that weekend . . . It was the first time I’d seen Sammy in years, but we fell right back into sync, complete with some classic Sammy bitch-fests. But then I had to take him _home_.” Dean spat out the word. “He smiled as he walked away, and I realized he was never coming back. He was building a shiny new life around Jess and Stanford and _normal_ , leaving no room for me. That weekend wasn’t a reunion; it was goodbye. My little brother was gone for good, unless . . .”

After a long pause Benny prompted, “Unless what, Dean?”

Dean looked down at where his hands were twisting the stiff, white sheets. He chewed on his lip and shook his head silently.

“Unless what?” Benny repeated, ducking down and trying to catch Dean’s eyes. “Dean. Tell me.”

“Unless something happened to Jess.” Dean’s voice was flat, and his gaze stayed fixed on the bed. “Sam was gone unless something happened to Jess. Mom’s death drove Dad to the road; Jess dying would do the same for Sam. He’d come travel with me, just like when we were kids. It was all so damn clear. Jess could die in a fire, just like Mom. It could happen so easily. I could smell the smoke, hear Sam’s screams, feel the heat from the flames. It was so fucking tempting. I could get my brother back, and damn the consequences. All it would take was a match in the right place with a little encouragement.”

“But you didn’t do it. You might have thought about it, Dean, but _you didn’t do it_.”

Dean looked up, and his eyes were dead. “Didn’t I? I woke up the next morning with two sets of memories: one of sitting alone in the Impala for hours, and one of running into a burning building and dragging my brother from the flames. Both felt true. Which was real? Was Sam peacefully asleep with Jess in his arms? Or was he in the motel bathroom frantically trying to scrub the scent of smoke out of his clothes?”

Benny started to answer, but Dean interrupted. “I know what you’ll say, ‘Jess is fine. They’re happily married–great job, house in California, rugrats on the way.’ I can see the picture on the damn wall just fine, thanks. But I wanted Jess dead. I thought about it. I fucking wished for it. Even if I didn’t do anything more, that’s not something you forgive.”

“Dean, that’s not true. I know forgiveness seems impossible now, but once you’re better you can talk to your brother. Your illness is not your fault. I’m sure, in time, he’ll understand. He’ll forgive you.”

Dean scoffed. “That just shows how much you don’t know Sam. He’s been a stubborn little fuck ever since he was a kid. No one and nothing can change his mind once it’s made up, not even . . . But whatever. It is what it is, right? Sam’s a lost cause, but now I’ve got Cas. Divinely gifted with the grace to deal with my first-rate fuck-ups. We’re like a heavenly odd couple or some shit. Trust me Benny. I’ve got my priorities straight: get my angel back, get myself better, and get the hell out of here. I’ll leave Sammy to his white-picket-fence and the happily-ever-after that he’s wanted all along.”


	4. Bargaining

[ ](http://i404.photobucket.com/albums/pp128/SOOOOEvil/Big%20Bang%20Stuff/nevertoldmewhat_spn.jpg)

Benny paced the room in agitation before taking a seat. “Dr. Masters, we need to talk about this new patient.”

“Mr. Novak? Why?” Meg cocked her head and raised one eyebrow.

“You don’t think it’s odd? The degree to which his delusions overlap with Winchester’s?”

“Not odd enough to warrant concern. Delusions with a religious aspect are fairly common. Mr. Novak is a devout Christian. It’s not surprising that he’s familiar with the lesser angelic hosts. And we know Mr. Winchester has an intensely obsessive nature, so I would never underestimate his knowledge in an area that has sparked his interest. As soon as he began gravitating towards the Christian mythos an interest in angels was almost inevitable.”

“And you believe that’s sufficient to explain their mutual fixation on this one, specific, obscure angel?”

“Don’t fall for a common misunderstanding of statistical probability, Mr. Lafitte. Even if there’s only a one in ten thousand chance of such a coincidence, there are thousands of hospitals treating hundreds of thousands of patients over the years. Such overlaps are bound to occur occasionally; this case just happens to be one of those times. Besides, we are one of the highest ranked hospitals in the nation for this sort of care.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Dr. Masters, but it’s a tough sell. I’m pretty sure Occam’s razor could rip it to shreds. I doubt you’ve even fully convinced yourself.”

“And you have a better explanation?”

“No, ma’am. At least, not at the moment. But I’m working on it, and I’ll be sure to let you know when I do.”

“Very well. Oh, and Mr. Lafitte?”

“Yes?”

“I know we had discussed transitioning Mr. Winchester into a less restricted environment. I hope you’ll agree, however, that due to Mr. Novak’s arrival we should delay that plan, at least for the time being. The similarities in their delusions are almost certainly pure coincidence, but interaction could still be potentially detrimental for both of them.”

*   *   *   *  *

“I understand now.” The man’s bright, blue eyes were serene, but his fingers picked anxiously at the bandages on his hand. Benny nodded reassuringly. He put his hands gently over Jimmy’s fretful ones, and the other man’s hands stilled.

“I was lost and confused for a long time after it happened,” Jimmy continued. “I did what he told me to do. I put my hand into the boiling water. I saw no change, and I felt no pain. It was a miracle. But then my wife came in, and she screamed and screamed and screamed. I looked at her in confusion, and when I looked back at my hand it felt the same, but instead of smooth skin I saw bubbling, crimson burns. Everything went silent, including the sound of my wife’s terror. I begged heaven for an explanation, but I couldn’t even hear my own voice. I was still calling out in vain when the emergency workers arrived to take me away.

“I sat in my room in the hospital and wondered what had happened. Was my belief too weak? Was my heart impure? Or was this a new test? Perhaps God had chosen me as a modern Job for the new millennium? I will confess that there were days when my faith wavered, when I thought I might truly be crazy, putting my family through all of this pain for no greater purpose than my unbalanced brain chemistry.

“But then Castiel spoke to me again. He told me that I would be transferred here, and that my move would be a sign, setting the stage for the next step in the divine plan. I still do not know the Lord’s purpose for me, but I know there is a reason for everything that has happened and everything that will happen, and I have faith that the angel will tell me more when the time is right. I see pity in your eyes. Do not mourn for me. I have my faith, I have my destiny, and that is enough.”

[ ](http://i404.photobucket.com/albums/pp128/SOOOOEvil/Big%20Bang%20Stuff/clairevaseCOL.jpg)

“Hey, Benny, did I ever say thank you?”

“What for, darlin’?”

“For not treating me like I’m some stupid kid. Everybody else tried to hide my dad’s condition from me. Mom spent a year trying to convince me that he just left, walked out the door and never contacted us again. Because clearly that’s better, right? Clearly it’s more comforting for a kid to think her dad abandoned her than to hear that he’s sick in the hospital and trying to get better. Except for how it isn’t better at all. God, grown ups suck. But, yeah. I really appreciate you listening and actually trying to help me deal with Dad’s illness.”

“I’m glad to help in any way I can, Claire. Does this mean the online message boards were useful?”

“Yeah. I mean, a lot of the posters were condescending adults, but I met this one girl, Krissy, that I really clicked with. Her dad’s delusions are more focused on monsters than angels, but otherwise the symptoms are pretty similar to my dad’s. Honestly, Krissy’s probably the first person I’ve talked to since this all happened that really makes me feel like I’ve been lucky. Her mom died when she was pretty young, so for a long time it was basically her taking care of her dad as his symptoms got worse and worse.

“She doesn’t complain about it or anything, but when she talks about what it was like on the road with him or describes her current life at the foster home it reminds me that I should be grateful for my mom, no matter how much I think she fucked up. And I am, or at least I try to be. It’s hard, but I’ll keep working on it. I don’t want to be the kind of person who holds a grudge and hates their family, and I refuse to let this damn disease take both of my parents away from me.”

*   *   *   *  *

“Cas is coming back for me.” The smile on Dean’s face was innocent, beatific, and completely out of character.

“Dean?” Benny crouched down slowly until he was at the other man’s eye level. “What happened? Did Dr. Masters change your meds again?”

“No. I dunno. Maybe?” His words slurred together. “That’s not the point. The point, Benny, is that Cas figured out how to talk to me. He still can’t come to me in person–some wards or sigils or somethin’ that didn’t make a whole lotta sense–but he could come in my dream. It was so good just to be near him again; you have _no_ idea. He doesn’t look like a person, you know, or a little baby head with wings or somethin’ dumb like that. You can’t really _see_ him at all, it’s more like you _feel_ him: this sensation of power and joy and . . . and . . . righteousness. Yeah. He feels like righteousness and apple pie. He says he’s a . . . whatchacallit . . . a ‘multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent,’ but I say that’s a mouthful, so I just call him ‘Cas.’”

Dean nodded decisively and then leaned forward to whisper, “You know that already though, right Benny? You know about Cas and how he’s good for me. _You’re_ happy that he’s coming back, right? Not like those other men this morning with Dr. Masters. They were all upset and worried, running around with their angry faces on. And then they shot me up with something and it knocked me right out. I didn’t even get a chance to tell them about Cas’s plan.”

“His plan?” Benny carefully kept his face neutral, his voice quiet and steady.

“Yeah. It’s a great plan. It’s like, divinely inspired and shit. Although I don’t get to know any details. I dunno if that’s ‘cause I’m not divine enough, or ‘cause Cas thinks I can’t keep a secret. But that’s _stupid_ , ‘cause I can keep all kinds of secrets. I’m a great secret keeper. Right, Benny?”

“Sure, Dean. Best secret keeper I know. Is there anything else you can tell me about this plan?”

“Nuh-uh. Just that it’s a secret, and involves somebody named Jimmy. Hah! Jimmy! Isn’t that a silly name for an angel coke . . . const . . . cospoteritor? Conspi-tyri-tator? Whatever. Not very angelic, that’s for sure. Humph. Oh. And it’s gonna happen really, really, _really_ soon, so I gotta be ready. We _all_ gotta be ready, and we’ve gotta be careful and not tell _anyone_. Okay, Benny? We gotta be good secret keepers and super ready, and then Cas can come back for real, and everything will be good again.”

[ ](http://i404.photobucket.com/albums/pp128/SOOOOEvil/Big%20Bang%20Stuff/dopydeanCOL.jpg)

Benny stormed into the office, slamming the door behind himself. “What did you do to Dean Winchester? Whatever you shot him up with must have interacted badly with his other medications, because he’s a complete mess.”

“Whatever I ‘shot him up with’?” Meg’s tone was scathing. “Mr. Winchester was manic and raving the moment he woke up this morning. We had to sedate him to prevent him from injuring himself. Whatever happened to upset his mental state, I assure you that the sedatives were a consequence, not a cause. You can review the tapes yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“Right. Sorry. I believe you, of course.” Benny shook his head and sank into a chair. “It’s just so damn frustrating. He was making steady progress and then–BAM. He backslides. He’s worse than I’ve seen him in all the months he’s been here.”

“I know.” Meg’s voice became soothing. “Believe me, I share your frustration, but you know that sometimes these things happen. All we can do is try to figure out what triggered the setback and deal with the results. You’ve spent as much time with Mr. Winchester as I have, probably more. Do you have any insights or suggestions?”

Benny took a few minutes to mull the question over. “Well, he mentioned dreaming about that angel, Castiel, but there’s no external stimuli there, and I’d hate to think that a single dream could cause such a dramatic behavioral shift . . . Oh. He mentioned a ‘Jimmy.’ Could he mean Mr. Novak?”

“I don’t see how. Mr. Winchester hasn’t spoken with any outside visitors since he arrived, and Mr. Novak only joined us a few weeks ago. Mr. Winchester never opened up to the other orderlies the way he has to you, and after our earlier conversation I gave everyone explicit instructions not to mention either man to the other. I certainly haven’t said anything to them in their sessions . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she turned to Benny with calculating eyes.

“Hey, I haven’t said anything to them either. Maybe Dean just picked a name at random, and there is no deeper meaning?”

She smirked at that. “So now you’re the one claiming simple coincidence?”

“I suppose I am.” His return smile held little warmth. “You aren’t planning on keeping Dean on the sedatives, are you? I understand they were necessary this morning, but I don’t think he’s capable of rationality under their influence.”

“I hope not. It depends on his behavior. The sedatives aren’t ideal, but I won’t hesitate to prescribe them as needed. We’ll see how he does tomorrow and proceed from there.”

“Fine.” Benny nodded his head decisively.

“Oh I’m _so_ glad you approve.” Meg rolled her eyes. “I do have one more question if you’ll deign to share your wisdom and insight.”

“What?”

“What’re your thoughts on this Castiel? On the significance he seems to hold for Mr. Winchester?”

“Honestly, ma’am, it worries me. I almost feel bad saying it, but at least with his previous fixations he knew they were evil. From Azazel to Alastair, Lucifer to Lilith, he was fighting against them, fighting for his family, and we could channel that towards his recovery. With Castiel it’s different. He’s an ally instead of an antagonist. I don’t think Dean will ever agree to trying to get rid of Castiel, and even if we could heal Dean fully, banish the angel without his help, he’d never forgive us for it.”


	5. Acceptance

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“Pssst. Benny.” Jimmy beckoned the other man closer to where he was crouched in the corner of the room.

“Hey, Jimmy.” The orderly’s tone was gentle. “I didn’t think you knew my name.”

“Shhh. They’re watching.” Jimmy leaned over to whisper in Benny’s ear, cupping his hands to hide his mouth. “It’s going to happen tomorrow night. Castiel is going to get us out. We wanted to tell you because we trust you, because you’ve been kind to Dean. We want you to know that we’re grateful. Dean would thank you himself, but he doesn’t know yet that we’re leaving tomorrow. He can’t know too soon or things won’t work out right. The timing is very complex.

“Please let our families know that we love them. This isn’t their fault, and we’re so sorry that they have been dealt so much pain. We hate to leave them, but there is a greater purpose behind all of this, and someday it will all become clear. Will you tell them that? Will you?”

Benny pulled away and looked at Jimmy with concern. “Oh, brother. Don’t do this. Whatever you’re planning, just . . . just wait. Please. We can help you, I promise, but you need to give us more time.”

Jimmy shook his head. “It’s out of my hands. Just . . . remember what I said.” He looked up at the camera in the corner of the room and covered his mouth again. “And don’t tell _them_ , okay? They can’t stop it, but they’ll try, and someone might get hurt. We don’t want anyone else getting hurt. Please?”

*   *   *   *  *

“Back off, Crowley! I already told you–“

“Tell it to me again, Lafitte. Tell it to me slowly using very small words. And this time, tell it to me with an ending that DOESN’T SOUND LIKE YOU NEED A SABBATICAL IN ONE OF OUR PADDED ROOMS!!!”

“I told you. I was working the late shift. Winchester and Novak were acting weird the past couple of days, so I decided to check in on both of them. I saw Winchester asleep in his bed, so I walked over to Novak’s room. He was huddled against the bed and looked upset, so I opened the door to go to him. The next thing I knew someone grabbed me from behind and slammed my head into the door frame, hard. I blacked out.

“When I opened my eyes again Winchester and Novak were standing back-to-back in the middle of some circle/symbol/thing. I think . . . fuck. I think it was painted with their blood? I could see it dripping from Winchester’s fingertips. Novak was holding my nightstick, and Winchester had some sort of shiv–God knows what he found to make it out of. Novak was chanting in some foreign language while Winchester just stared in confusion like he’d never really seen me before.

“Honestly, I don’t remember exactly what I said. I wasn’t sure if they were going to hurt themselves, hurt me, or make a run for it. I was just trying to get through to Dean, to tell him that it wasn’t too late. He could still put the weapon down and go back to his room, and everything would be okay. Then the lights started to flicker. I guess there was some electrical storm or something that blew the fuses, because one of the bulbs exploded, and a moment later all of the power shut off.

“That’s when the mechanical alarms started ringing, and the other patients started panicking. I couldn’t see or hear anything for a solid ten minutes until the back-up generator finally came online and turned on the emergency lights. At that point Winchester and Novak were both gone. Does that fit your criteria for not-crazy?”

“It’s a start. Certainly an improvement on the ‘blinding, white light’ you described the first time around.”

Benny narrowed his eyes and refused to rise to the bait. “Fine. Are we done here?”

“Not quite, darling. I’ve got a few more questions for you first. For example, why were you working this evening? The schedule says it was Pond’s turn on the late shift.”

“It was supposed to be, but her boy’s been sick all week. I offered to fill in for her so she could go home and take care of him.”

“Ah. Of course. How very generous of you.” He made a note on his pad of paper. “You were quite close with Winchester, and you say you checked on him in his room just before the incident. Was his door locked at that time?”

“Obviously.”

“Oh, on the contrary, it isn’t obvious at all. If Winchester’s door was locked, how did he escape to supposedly get the jump on you in Novak’s room?”

“I believe that would be security’s fault, _sir_. Dr. Masters and I have warned you repeatedly that while Dean Winchester’s experiences with monster hunting may be delusions, his experiences with burglary and petty larceny are very real. Picking the lock on his door would be child’s play for him. The only reason he stayed in that room as long as he did was that he _chose_ to trust us.”

“Oi. Don’t go trying to get out of this by aligning yourself with that sanctimonious bitch. She may hate my guts, but she knows you’re the obvious scapegoat here, and there’s no way she’s going out on a limb to save your neck. She values her own far too highly.”

“Look, Crowley, I don’t know what you’re getting at here. I didn’t do anything wrong except get my head bashed in. If you don’t believe me you can check the security footage.”

“It’s that simple, is it? Just look at the tapes. Brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that? Oh, right. Because they don’t work! The tapes turn to static just before your little stroll down to Winchester’s room. My tech boys think it was a side effect of the storm, but I think that timing is awfully convenient for a coincidence.”

“If you’ve got something to say, Crowley, just say it.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Was I too subtle? I. Think. You. Broke. The. Loonies. Out. You. Sodding. Tosser.”

“You think so? Well, fuck you. And fuck this hospital if they think I’m going to take the fall for random coincidence and your incompetence. I quit. I’m out of here. I’ll see you in hell.”

  
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“And so, the hospital extends our most sincere apologies. We will, of course, do everything within our power to aid the police in their investigations until Mr. Winchester and Mr. Novak are found and Mr. Lafitte is brought to justice.” After Meg finished there was a moment of stunned silence.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?!” John exploded. “Everything within your power? I brought Dean here because you were recommended to me as one of the most secure, intensive treatment centers in the country. Now you tell me that my son has escaped with another patient, you have no information on their whereabouts, and the orderly most involved in my son’s care may have aided in the escape? At least, you think that’s what happened, but you can’t be certain, because now _he’s_ disappeared as well! Is there no end to your incompetence? You can shove your apologies where the sun don’t shine, because you will absolutely be hearing from us in court! It’s about time having a lawyer in the family did us some good.”

“Dad! Back off! Yelling at them isn’t going to help Dean!” Sam turned to the doctor and head of security. “Dr. Masters, can you give me the contact information that the police left with you? Mr. Crowley, is there anything more you can tell me about the circumstances of their escape?”

John scoffed. “Why am I even surprised? Of course! You want to make nice with the establishment that just fucked over your family. You really are a cold-hearted dick to the core, aren’t you, Sammy? Every fucking lawyer joke personified. Selling out your own brother!”

Sam spun around to face his father. “Don’t you dare get self-righteous on me, old man! Get angry! Throw a tantrum! Fight for revenge or justice or whatever you want to call it! I don’t give a shit! But don’t expect me to join in on your vendetta, because I’m going to be busy actually looking for my brother!”

“Stop it! Please! You shouldn’t fight!” Claire dashed between them. Her eyes were wide as she turned from one man to the other.

Her mom tugged on her arm. “Shh, honey. Sit down. The adults are talking. I know the yelling is upsetting, but you can’t just tell them . . .”

“No, Mom. They need to listen. You all need to listen. It’s Castiel. I can hear him. His voice is so beautiful, Mom. You can’t imagine.” Her smile was blissful. Her eyes focused on something none of them could see. “He says Dad and Mr. Winchester are with him. He says they love us and miss us, but they have important work to do. So we shouldn’t fight or be sad or look for them. We should be happy and try to follow God’s plan, and maybe someday God will call us to join them in their holy crusade. Then we will be truly blessed.”

The adults all stared at her in horror. Her mother fell to her knees and hugged Claire tightly. “Oh no. No, no, no. Not her too. Please God, show mercy. Not my baby too.”

Claire just cocked her head to the side and absently stroked her mother’s hair. “It’s gonna be okay, Mom. Castiel says everything is going to be okay.”


End file.
